After learning that the Russian government officials were referring to #45 as “Our Boy”, I realized that this was an opportunity to make some fast money.
I knew that one of the Donald’s most lucrative clothing lines— baseball caps was making him a ton of moolah. Note to readers: Google Donald Trump’s tax returns to learn how much he makes in the chapeau business.
I quickly called my trademark attorney. “I want the trademark for “Our Boy” ASAP.
I hit Go Daddy app and registered “OurBoy.com”.
I researched all American factories manufacturing Trump caps. Finding none. I smacked myself in the head, remembering all of the Trump’s clothing lines had “Made in China” labels.
I hired a graphic artist. Here what she recommended, “Go with the colors of the Russian flag: white, blue, and red. Go masculine by adding the gold colored two-headed eagle on the backside of the cap. Macho sells!”
“Sounds good so far,” I replied.
“Adding the number 45 may be over the top but his crazy base is infatuated with numerology. The good news is I think the Russian oligarchs will buy a million of them, ” she continued.
Here is when it hit me. Those damn Russian oligarchs would violate my trademark— mass produce my hats and I would never see a ruble.
Then I pictured it in my head: I turn on CNN, their Moscow reporter is surrounded by all these locals and tourists. They’re wearing fake or better said counterfeit “Our Boy” hats. The reporter points and asks the obvious, ” Why are you wearing that baseball cap?”
The local resident in broken English responds, “Here ve all know the Donald is controlled by Putin. He traded power for money when Putin agreed to allow him to build Trump Moscow hotel and condos in Red Square. The cap tells the vorld the whole story in two vords. Your American president is now “our boy”. Russia owns him.
Then my iPhone blasted Back in the USSR. As the Beatles sang, I ran to get the cellular.
“Mort here, how can I help you?’
Mort, sorry to tell you the bad news. The Trump organization all ready got the trademark for “Our Boy”.
“Damn it. Foiled again! ” I replied. “Thanks anyway for the info. Maybe next time.”
But before hanging up, from somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I belted out:
Well the Ukraine girls really knock me out
They leave the west behind
And Moscow girls make me sing and shout
That Georgia’s always on my my my my my my my my my mind.
The trademark attorney chimed in, “Thanks Mort. The last time I heard that song it was on a 45.”
Please share. Humor is the best medicine.